


More Than She Bargained For

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Blindfolds, Electricity, F/F, Light BDSM, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tamsin gets an anonymous tip that leads to an...interesting experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than She Bargained For

Tamsin's hand drifts to her hip, checking for her gun one more time. It's dark, this isn't the best neighborhood, and the run-down motel she was directed to isn't exactly the Ritz. 

She's not even sure _why_ she's here—what she hopes to accomplish. She got an anonymous tip at the station, someone promising more information about the unaligned succubus than she could ever dream of wanting. 

Which, okay, was fucking weird. Vague almost to the point of not being worth it, especially considering she's not as eager to put Bo behind bars as she was before. Which is ironic, since she just found out beyond a doubt that Bo was the one who attacked that now-deceased Dark fae—but whatever. She's not convinced Bo's a good guy yet, but she's pretty sure she's not a bad guy, either. 

The bitch just refuses to be defined. 

In any case, she hasn't completely decided what she's going to do about The Bo Problem—and if this informant has real dirt on Bo, it's too risky to let them run around town offering it to the highest bidder. 

Not that she intends to actually _pay_ for it, but that little detail can be worked out later. 

The door is unlocked, as she was told it would be. She keeps one hand close to her hip as the other turns the handle, stepping carefully inside. 

It's dark. The curtains are drawn tight, and only a small triangle of light spills in from the partially-open door. She frowns, her fingers twitch. If this is a fucking trap, she'll—

She'll stand there, frozen, because all of a sudden it's not completely dark after all. Across the room, in the corner, there are two small spots of light, an intense blue glow that she'd know anywhere. 

"Close the door." Bo's voice is deep, a little raspy, and leaves no room for argument. 

Tamsin could leave, right now. She should, for fuck's sake—there are so many ways this could go so horribly wrong for her. Bo is hungry, that much is abundantly clear, and Tamsin is not exactly rolling in expendable chi these days. 

She closes the door. Now the only thing she can see are those two blue dots, getting closer as soft footsteps approach. 

"All right, Succubus," Tamsin says impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest despite the fact that Bo can't see it. "What's the deal? You just felt like fucking with the Dark fae cop?" 

"Mm," Bo hums, in a way that makes heat pool and tighten in Tamsin's belly. "Something like that." 

"What's the matter," Tamsin says, cursing the tight stretch of her voice over the words. "You still mad at your little human for locking you up? Wouldn't have thought chains would be that big a deal for you." 

"This isn't about Lauren." 

The air around Tamsin shifts, and she can feel Bo moving behind her. "So what's it about?" 

Bo's breath collides with Tamsin's neck as she chuckles. "Hunger." 

Tamsin swallows hard at the promise in Bo's voice. Her pulse pounds in her ears, distracting her from the very important task of deciding what she wants to do about it. "I am pretty tasty," she quips, a little smug. 

"I remember." The words are hot and moist, Bo's lips just barely touching the skin of Tamsin's ear. Fingertips brush Tamsin's waist, drifting toward the holster attached to her hip. "You won't be needing this." 

Against her better judgment, Tamsin stays stock still as Bo removes her gun and holster and sets them aside. She still can't see a damn thing except for Bo's eyes, glowing bright somewhere behind her and off to the side. 

She blinks, and then deft hands are pulling at her arms, fingers dragging over the leather sleeves, teasing at the bare skin of her wrists. Something presses into one of her hands, light and smooth to the touch. She rubs her fingers over the material—silk, she's pretty sure, and about the right size and shape for a scarf. 

No, not a scarf—a blindfold. 

"Put it on," Bo purrs into her ear before stepping away. 

Shit, she's really going all the way with this power play shit. Tamsin hesitates—she's not exactly the submissive type—but she's just curious enough to play along, at least for a little longer. The silk is cool and smooth against her face, and long enough to tie firmly behind her head. 

"Now what?" Tamsin asks, trying to sound bored. 

Bo only chuckles in response. There's a soft click, and hints of light bleed in around the edges of the blindfold. "Strip." 

Tamsin's been wet since she walked in the door to see those eyes staring back at her, since she heard the sultry rasp of Bo's voice; another rush of moisture floods between her legs now. There's something in that crisp order, in the lack of edge that says Bo isn't even entertaining the idea that she might refuse. The confidence turns her on, but the presumption rankles. "You know, I'm really not great at following orders." 

"You know where the door is." Though Tamsin can't see it, she's sure Bo is smirking. "You can leave any time you want. But if you stay, you'll do what I tell you and you'll like it—I promise." 

If there were a time to turn back, it would be…well, frankly, it would have been the second she walked in and figured out that Bo was her mysterious informant. That she hasn't left yet says more than any argument she might try to offer, so she doesn't. 

But if she's not allowed to see Bo's reactions, she's sure as hell not going to put on some kind of show. She shrugs her jacket off over her shoulders, tosses it to the side. Her shirt is next, the buttons somehow large and awkward under her fingers when this morning she was able to work them just fine. 

When the shirt drops to the floor and Tamsin immediately reaches behind her to work the clasp of her bra, Bo chuckles. "Little eager there, Valkyrie? I hope your stamina is better than your patience."

Tamsin scoffs, shrugs her bra forward over her arms. "I can take anything you dish out and more, Succubus." 

"We'll see about that," Bo says, but she doesn't interrupt again. 

Goosebumps prickle at Tamsin's bare skin as she steps out of the last of her clothes. She blames it on the chilly temperature of the room—certainly not on the anxious thrill of standing here naked while Bo looks on. She wants to cross her arms, but curls her hands into fists instead; she's not about to show any sign of insecurity or weakness. 

A gasp gets tangled up in Tamsin's throat when warm fingertips slide along her collarbone. Bo's not trying to charm her—she's pretty sure she'd recognize that, at least—but her touch is warmer than it should be, like Bo's only giving her a taste of what she can do. 

Bo's fingers drift down her chest, following the swell of a breast and circling the nipple. Her breath is warm, bridging the tiny gap between their mouths; she's so close that Tamsin can _feel_ her lips, feel the barest flick of her tongue. Bo is teasing, and Tamsin has never had the patience for a tease. 

When Tamsin surges forward, though, to chase that tongue, those lips, to try to regain some semblance of control, Bo's fingers close down on her nipple, hard. 

"Jesus, what the fuck?" Tamsin flinches back, covering her injured breast with her hand. She tries to sound angry, but the sharp pain has faded into a dull, insistent throb that seems to send electric signals straight to her clit. 

"Just reminding you who's in charge." Bo closes the distance, pressing close enough that Tamsin can feel the brush of silk against her bare skin. Tamsin is almost disappointed—she would have expected leather—but she can just imagine Bo standing there in one of those slinky things she wears, thighs flexing under the short hemline and breasts swelling against silk and lace. It's not an unpleasant image. 

Hands settle on Tamsin's hips then, guiding her back until she feels her legs collide with the edge of a bed. 

"Lie back," Bo directs. "Hands above your head." 

Tamsin does so, and her hands collide with the headboard—a headboard composed of thick, rounded wooden slats. She chuckles, tighter and more nervous than she'd like. "What, the blindfold's not enough? Gonna tie me up too?" 

"Mm…tempting," Bo says. The bed dips to the side, and Bo's fingers drag idly over Tamsin's torso. "But I think it'll be more fun my way." 

"And what's your way?" Tamsin challenges, her voice shaky. 

Rather than tell Tamsin, Bo apparently decides to show her. The bare skin of her thighs is scalding against Tamsin's hips; the lace hem of her lingerie tickles at Tamsin's stomach. 

Suddenly Tamsin is surrounded by the heat and smell and feel of Bo. Thighs grip tight around Tamsin's hips, and Tamsin has to fight not to jerk up as Bo leans forward. Full, soft breasts press down into Tamsin's chest as sure hands circle her wrists, guide her hands to close around two of the wooden slats. 

"Hold on tight, Detective," Bo murmurs, letting her fingers drag down Tamsin's arms as she withdraws. "If you let go, the game's over—and from the look of things, you're definitely having fun playing." 

Shit. So much for playing it cool; she forgot about Bo's lesser-known power. It's probably how Bo was able to maneuver toward and around her so easily in the dark; Tamsin's aura must have lit up like the damn sun when she saw that blue glow. 

Then Bo is gone, sliding off of Tamsin's lap and shoving off of the bed, and Tamsin grips the headboard just to keep herself from yanking off the blindfold and taking charge. 

Bo doesn't go far. Moments later, Tamsin hears a low buzzing start up off to her right. She rolls her eyes, secure in the knowledge that Bo can't see it. Leave it to the succubus to bring toys.

What presses to her skin, though, does not vibrate. It's cool, smooth glass, humming faintly against her collarbone. This…this is new. 

New and kind of boring, to tell the truth. Tamsin's not sure what the point is—until the glass pulls away, and something sharp pricks at her skin. 

"Fuck," Tamsin gasps, more out of surprise than anything else. "What _is_ that?" 

The chuckle that sounds in Bo's throat is barely human; it sounds like the embodiment of a sex demon or some shit—which, okay, technically is true. Either way, it makes Tamsin clench—her hands around the headboard, her thighs against one another. 

"I could tell you," Bo murmurs, dragging the thin glass bulb over Tamsin's breasts. Every once in a while it will lift, just enough to make it spark against her skin. "But I think it'd be more fun to make you guess." 

Tamsin is barely able to stifle a moan as the toy shocks her nipple. The chances of her having enough conscious thought to figure out what it is are getting slimmer by the second. The current drifts down, pricking at the fine hairs on her stomach, curving out to her hip. 

"Figure it out yet?" Bo asks, as the sensation grows louder and more intense. "I know I'm the succubus, but I really expected more from someone who acts like she knows everything." 

Electricity thrums in Tamsin's veins, makes her feel hot and alive and more turned on than she can remember being in a long fucking time. "Feels like a live wire," she forces out through her teeth. It fucking better not be; Tamsin may not be a pathetically short-lived human, but everyone has their expiration date and she'd rather not bump hers up for the sake of a good fuck.

"Close enough." The electric charge pulls away with a crackle as Bo's free hand nudges Tamsin's legs apart. Bo settles into the space she's just made, her knees pressing against the inside of Tamsin's thighs, and then the charge is back, dragging inward from her hipbone, pressed to her skin to dull the effect. It slides down between Tamsin's legs, where her flesh is already slick and open and wanting. 

Not that Bo has stopped teasing. The glass slides smooth down the inside crease of her thigh, but rather than drag inward the way Tamsin _seriously_ wants her to, Bo guides the toy out and up, completing a lazy circle before drifting across to do the same to the other side. 

Tamsin is so wet that she can feel every move Bo's hand makes just from the slight disruptions in the air. When Bo pulls the toy away again, it sends sparks sharp and hot into the slick skin of Tamsin's thigh. A moan catches in Tamsin's throat, and it's only the wood of the headboard, solid and firm in her hands, that keeps her from jerking her hips. 

Soon even that isn't enough, as Bo delivers a series of intense shocks along her thighs and abdomen, never quite getting close enough to where Tamsin needs contact—any contact. It's subtle at first, the slight rock of her hips, but it's not long before her thighs are contracting around Bo's kneeling form, before her quiet stifled moans turn into desperate, needy grunts. 

Bo pulls the toy away again, and Tamsin is only partly successful at suppressing the whine of protest that rises in her throat. "Getting impatient?" Bo asks. 

"No," Tamsin deadpans as best she can. "Bored." 

Another chuckle, and Bo's fingers dip between Tamsin's legs, spreading her open. The room is warm, but the air that collides with her obvious arousal sends chills racing up Tamsin's spine. 

For a moment Bo just stays like that, her fingers pressing achingly close to Tamsin's clit. Is she admiring her handiwork? There's no use trying to deny that Bo is the reason for the abundant wetness slicking Tamsin's skin. Tamsin can imagine Bo, sitting back on her heels with that smug curve of her lips. Maybe she's got her lower lip pulled between her teeth, in that way that tries so hard to be coy but always teases at something darker, something dirtier—and when the fuck did Tamsin start paying so much damn attention to Bo's facial expressions?

A sharp, intense jolt straight to her clit tears Tamsin from her thoughts and pulls a high, strangled sound from her throat that she will never own up to later. Her fingers ache from how tightly they're wrapped around the headboard, and the silk scarf around her eyes is damp with sweat. 

Bo plays with her, alternating shocks with the more deliberate press of the glass against skin. Once or twice the toy dips lower—teasing, pressing just inside, before dragging back up to circle her clit. 

It's almost a surprise when that last shock comes, hot and sharp and intense. It feels like Bo has set Tamsin on fire, heat raging through her blood and tightening her muscles. A loud, wanton cry fills the room as Tamsin's hips arch off of the bed; she'll never own up to making the sound, even if her throat _is_ hoarse and aching afterward. 

The gentle pull is what brings her back down. Bo is straddling her hips again, leaning down over her, and Tamsin doesn't need her sight to tell her that Bo is feeding. It's not as intense, not as excruciating as it was a few days ago in the woods. She can't work out why, but it hardly matters when she can feel Bo's body pressed down into her own, when Bo's mouth descends on hers with lips and tongue and teeth. 

"Delicious," Bo murmurs when she breaks the kiss. "And obedient, too. I'm impressed."

It takes a moment for Tamsin to understand, but then her fingers flex around the wood of the headboard, working out the ache without actually letting go. She smirks. "Told you I could take it." 

Bo laughs, low and dark. "I'm not done with you yet," she says, her breath warm against Tamsin's lips. 

Then she slides away, off of Tamsin, off of the bed. Tamsin breathes in slow and deep, trying to regain some clarity of mind, but it's a losing battle. As incredible as that orgasm was, it hasn't relieved the tension knotting low in her belly—it's only made it worse. She fights the urge to press her thighs together again, determined to hold out as long as she possibly can. 

Still, it's a relief when Bo climbs back onto the mattress and reclaims her spot between Tamsin's legs. Even better is when curious fingers dip into the slick heat there; Tamsin clenches hungrily at them, her hips arching of their own volition. Bo is going slow, sliding deliberately in and out at a steady pace—she's teasing Tamsin, testing her, and Tamsin just really wants to be fucked. 

Just when Tamsin's frustration starts to reach its breaking point, Bo's hand retreats. A groan gets caught up in Tamsin's throat at the sudden emptiness. She doesn't have time to protest, though—not before she feels something cool and thick pressing against her cunt. 

Shit. Bo does _not_ skimp on her toys. Tamsin sucks in air through her teeth as it pushes in. It's big—not _too_ big, but enough that Tamsin can feel herself stretching around it, feel it filling her up as Bo shoves it in to the hilt.

For a second Bo just leaves it there, holds it in place as Tamsin throbs around it. Then she starts to move, slow and steady, and Tamsin's heels dig into the bedspread as she jerks her hips up to meet each thrust.

Tamsin's hands are slippery with sweat, and she struggles to hold onto the headboard. She doesn't doubt that Bo will stop if her grip relaxes, if her hands fall away from the place they were directed to. Right now, stopping is _not_ a fucking option. 

Bo is relentless. She shifts to straddle one of Tamsin's thighs as she picks up her pace, bracing herself against the mattress with her free hand. Tamsin breathes in quick, shallow gasps, straining ever closer to the release she craves. 

But when Tamsin comes, shuddering and arching and every part of her clenching, Bo doesn't stop. She keeps fucking Tamsin, driving into her again and again and leaning down from time to time to take deep pulls of chi that leave Tamsin beyond breathless. Once, Bo takes too much, too fast, and a sharp pain rips through Tamsin's chest; when her thigh jerks up in response, it comes away slick with Bo's own arousal. 

When Bo finally eases up, Tamsin has lost count of how many orgasms she's just had. It's all one long blur of shaking and throbbing and moaning, and her mouth and throat are parched from all the sounds she'll never admit to making. 

Tamsin's cunt is swollen and aching, only half-heartedly clenching at the toy as Bo slides it out of her. There's a distant thud as it drops to the ground, but Tamsin doesn't really notice; she's more focused on the way Bo is grinding down against her thigh, the little sighs and moans catching in Bo's throat. 

One of Bo's hands wraps around Tamsin's right wrist, slides up to pry her fingers away from the headboard. Tamsin is all too happy to relax her grip, especially when her hand is dragged between Bo's legs. 

"What, no orders?" Tamsin cracks, exploring the slick flesh with her fingers. 

Bo gasps as Tamsin's fingers circle her clit. "I didn't think you needed instruction for this." 

"Oh, I definitely know what to do," Tamsin purrs, slipping a fingertip just into Bo's dripping heat. Bo's not the only one who knows how to tease. "Although it'd be a lot easier if I could _see_ what I was doing."

"If you're not up to the challenge…"

Tamsin scoffs and presses the heel of her palm against Bo, eliciting a stilted gasp. "Sweetheart, they haven't made a challenge yet that I can't handle." 

Sure, it'd be nice to have use of both of her hands, but she can do this. Her position allows her to stretch just enough to sink two fingers into Bo, who is helpful enough to rock forward against her as she begins to thrust. 

Bo whimpers, thick and needy and frustrated. Her hips jerk more urgently. "More," she pants. 

It's easier said than done; adding another finger requires a shift in position that's damn near impossible with her other hand still wrapped around the headboard. 

Fuck it. Tamsin doesn't just let go of the headboard, she _pushes_ away from it, using the momentum to sit up and grab hold of Bo's hip with her newly-freed hand. Bo's hands fly to Tamsin's shoulders to regain some of the balance that was thrown off at the sudden movement. Tamsin finds herself with a face full of cleavage—something she's not really inclined to complain about. 

In her new position, Tamsin is able to slide three fingers into Bo, driving deeper than she could lying down. Bo groans, her nails digging into Tamsin's shoulders. 

"Should—punish you—for that," Bo gasps. 

Tamsin rolls her eyes, yanks the blindfold off so she can glare pointedly at Bo. "How?" She curls her fingers inside Bo, rubbing her fingertips against a spot that predictably makes Bo shudder and clutch harder at her shoulders. "If I'm not mistaken, I'm the one with the power right now. I could always stop—"

Bo grabs Tamsin's wrist before she can withdraw her hand completely. "Don't you dare," Bo growls.

With a smug grin, Tamsin starts to move again. It's a lot more fun this way, being able to see the black silk bunched up around Bo's hips, the damp flush of Bo's chest and throat as she throws her head back and moans. Tamsin bites down on her lip, holding tight to Bo's hip. Her abs are burning from holding her up, but she doesn't have the patience left to shift positions again and pull her leg out from between Bo's. 

If nothing else, she's getting a damn good workout. 

Oh, but there's so much more than that, she has to admit—even aside from the very thorough, very incredible fucking Bo just gave her, there's the hot clench of Bo around her fingers, the warm press of her thighs, the smell of sweat and sex, the feeling of damp silk rubbing against her cheeks and the soft flesh of Bo's breasts beneath it. 

It's been a while since Tamsin has let herself _enjoy_ sex this much. Usually it's just a quick fuck in a convenient semi-private location, a fleeting way to release tension. She's not one to go for flowery sentiments like _making love_ , but there's something to be said for drawing out the experience. The sexual energy in the room is so thick even Tamsin can taste it, and she's sure it's driving Bo out of her damn mind. 

The stutter of moans and cries coming from Bo's throat seem to support the theory, at least—not to mention the way Bo's fingers claw at her shoulders and tangle in her hair. When Bo stiffens against her, clenching hard around her fingers, a thrill of smug pride shoots down Tamsin's spine to pool in her belly. 

She doesn't let Bo off easily, though. Tamsin keeps going the same way Bo did, ignoring the burn of fatigue in her muscles as slick release drips down her wrist, as Bo's cries of pleasure gradually become edged with pain. 

Finally Bo shoves at Tamsin's shoulders, the word "stop" barely able to brush past her lips. As soon as Tamsin's fingers slide free, Bo twists and drops onto her back on the mattress.

Tamsin falls back next to Bo, flexing her slippery fingers and sighing as her abs are finally able to relax. Her entire body is aching with satisfaction and fatigue. It would be so easy to just close her eyes…hell, it'd probably be the most restful sleep she's had in centuries. 

A frown creases Tamsin's lips. Sleep is definitely not part of this—whatever this is. Yeah, it'd be pretty stupid to deny that she's attracted to Bo now, but really—who wouldn't be? Shit, for sex like that, she could be attracted to just about anyone. Sleeping, though—that's intimate. That takes a lot more trust than putting a blindfold on and letting Bo have her way with her. 

Bo shifts next to her, and soft fingertips rub at the furrowed skin of Tamsin's brow. "You know, that's pretty much the opposite of the expression I expected," she teases softly. "Even when I used to kill my lovers, they died with a smile on their face. You're gonna give a girl a complex." 

"No worries, Succulette," Tamsin scoffs, rolling over so that Bo's hand falls to the bed. "Your skills are anything but rusty."

Before Tamsin can get up, Bo's hand settles hesitantly on her shoulder. "Tamsin, are you—was this okay?"

Her voice is so small, so…vulnerable. It tugs at something in Tamsin's chest, but she pushes it away with a shake of her head. "It's fine," Tamsin says gruffly, shrugging off Bo's hand. "Not everything is about you. I just have places to be." 

Bo inhales, like she's going to say something else, but apparently she thinks better of it. Still, Tamsin can feel those eyes on her—back to chocolate brown now, no more blue glow—as she hunts down her clothes.

Tamsin feels sticky and damp; it'd be nice to take advantage of the shower here before putting her clothes back on, considering it's one of the key amenities her truck lacks. But the longer she stays here, the longer Bo has to interrogate her—and whatever this was, Tamsin has no desire to _talk_ about it. Ever. 

Thankfully, Bo remains silent as Tamsin pulls her clothes on over skin that still tingles with electricity. Once she's laced her boots and shrugged her jacket back on, Tamsin spares one backward glance toward the bed: Bo is lying there, head propped up on her hand, studying Tamsin with probing eyes. It makes Tamsin uncomfortable in a way she's not ready to figure out. 

"See you 'round, Succubus," Tamsin says brusquely, turning back to the door. 

Closing the door behind her, Tamsin breathes a sigh of relief. The night air is crisp, chilling her heated skin and returning some semblance of function to her brain. 

As anonymous tips go, she has to admit this was the most interesting one she's followed up on in quite some time.

**Author's Note:**

> The first toy Bo used was a [Neon Wand](http://www.kinklab.com/products/neon_wand.php), made by Kinklab. I have one of these myself and it's quite fun to play around with--particularly if you have the Power Tripper attachment, that lets you channel the current through your skin (ever wanted to shoot sparks from your fingertips?), which I unfortunately was unable to work into this fic.
> 
> You know, in case you were wondering.


End file.
